


A Sacred Union

by LinnyBear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friend Fiction, bad euphemisms for dangly parts, i think i ran out of ways to describe chest hair too, purposely poorly written smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6017313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinnyBear/pseuds/LinnyBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela is always more than happy to congratulate her friends on new found love. And, in the best way possible - explicit friend fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sacred Union

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Dammit_Hawke as a Valentine's Day present. She asked for badly written smut.
> 
> I have no shame about this, of all things, being my Cassandra/Varric debut. I can't think of a more fitting one honestly.

The sentence that sticks out to him as Aveline tosses the papers across the table is “ _ Sweat shimmered on each of his radiant chest hairs in the moonlight” _ , so he knows this will be either wonderful or horrifying.

“What’s this.” He says, flatly, gathering the papers together.

“Payback.” Aveline is far too pleased with herself. That should scare Varric. And, well, it does.

“Payback?” 

“Just read, dwarf.” 

So, rather than risk decapitation by parchment, if that’s even a thing she can do, he does.

 

_ The stars over Skyhold stretch out across the horizon like an ocean across the sky, the clouds its tempest of waves. All was quiet, for once, the fields of soldiers and believers alike asleep in the safety of the great fortress. _

_ All were asleep, except for the Seeker and the exceptionally manly dwarf. _

“Okay, tell me you didn’t write this,” Varric interjects. He’s laughing, although probably more out of discomfort, or shock, or just plain disbelief.

“Of course I didn’t.” Aveline crosses both legs on the table. “Your friend the pirate decided to, how was it put - ‘celebrate your love affair with a written dedication?”

He knows he should just stop reading here. He’s too curious, Andraste herself preserve him.

_ “I was wondering if you would come.” Cassandra is striking in moonlight, armor still tight to her form, glistening with the blood of her latest victory.  _

_ “I would never miss seeing you.” He’s in awe of every bit of her, from the curve of her hips to the fierceness of her cheekbones.  _

_ “I should think not.” And in an instant, she has crossed the space between them, and arms lock around each other in a fierce hold. Their lips met, and their tongues battled for dominance as she pressed him back against the stone of the battlements. Her fingers ran through his chest hair, slender calloused fingers tangled in soft, red-blonde mane. Every bit of him is eager for more, every inch of his manhood throbs against the thick leather of his pants -  _

“Maker’s holy tits, Rivaini.” He presses his fingers to his temples. But he doesn’t stop reading. And refuses to admit he’s more than a little turned on.

_ The armor fell away from her with a sharp ring, metal clashing against stone. Her hands fisted in his tunic, pulling it from him with all the desperation of a hungry animal, freeing his luscious chest hair to the sharp chill of the night as her lips and teeth glide over every inch of his neck, his collarbone.  _

_ His hands kneaded at her breasts, so soft as they were over firm, taut muscle. They strained against her own chaise, and he willfully freed them into the night air. They pressed against his chest, soft bosoms in soft hair, heated skin on skin, as his mouth found hers again and her fingers tangle in his hair. _

_ “Fuck me, Seeker.” He begged, voice low and husky in her ear. “Fuck me until I know no other name but yours.” _

_ “Gladly, you insufferable dwarf.” In a swift motion, smooth as she is with her sword, she had him on his back on the stone ground of the battlements. He made quick work of his trousers, throbbing member finally breaking free of its leather prison to beckon his lover to him in the night.  _

_ The seeker looked down at him, lust glistening off of her thighs, and finally took his massive greatsword snugly into her sheath.  _

_ She rode him as she rode into battle, head held high and every firm muscle of her body rippling. Her breasts bounced as she did, and he reached up to gladly worship them with large, calloused hands. Sweat shimmered on each of his radiant chest hairs in the moonlight, and there were no sounds save for their sweet, wet lovemaking to pierce the silence of the night. _

_ Finally, she could feel the edges of her climax sweeping over her, and she screamed out his name as she spasmed with pleasure, and his canon fired into her port.  _

_ “I love you, Cassandra Pentaghast,” he breathed, and she fondled his silky, sweat beaded chest hair as she came to rest against him. _

_ “And I love you too. Always.” _

 

“That was. Interesting.” 

In the time it takes him to read the questionable literature, Rivaini herself is sauntering into the tavern, arm and arm with the Seeker in question. 

“Oh good,” Isabela says, with a grin he’s learned to fear by now. “I knew you would get that to Varric if I left it out for you.”

Aveline looks disappointed, and angry, knowing all this was just a clever trap and not her much sought-after payback.

“Would find what?” Cassandra asks, skeptical. She moves to take a seat beside Varric, and Isabela grins wider despite herself.

“My little congratulations on your union, of course.”

Varric knows better than to keep this from Cassandra. With a long-suffering sigh, he hands the papers over to his lover. “I’m not responsible for this. Remember that.”

He watches her face as she reads, and he can’t help but love how plainly he can read her by now. Realization, anger, confusion, disgust and even a few smiles cross her face, as much as he knows she would rather hide her enjoyment. She’s an open book, whether she wants to be or not, and he knows he’s not the only one who can read her.

Damn Isabela’s shit-eating grin right to the Void.

“You wrote. About us.” Flatly, carefully, finally setting the pages down. “About me and Varric.”

“Of course, darling.” She drapes an arm over Aveline’s shoulder, and the guard-captain rolls her eyes. “As I said. Congratulating your love.”

“With smut?”

“The best way to do it.”

There’s a beat, and Varric knows when the Seeker is trying to school her emotions and failing. He didn’t want Isabela to die so young, but if she has to go, she picked the best way to do it.

“This is highly inappropriate.” She starts. “And invasive. And lewd and… Wonderful.”

Varric nearly chokes on his ale.

“Don’t get me wrong - do  _ not  _ do this again.” Isabela has the gall to look chastised, if only for a moment. “But still this is… touching.”

“Touching  _ was  _ the idea.” Isabela steals Varric’s ale, winking at him over the rim. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Lots of touching, if you can slip away.”

And of course they did, after a few more drinks and once Isabela finally stole the story back, briefly, to force Aveline to listen to a dramatic reading in its entirety. He and Cassandra slip away to his rooms, to enjoy the pleasure of each others company in the warmth of silk sheets and the faint, happy buzz left over from the ale. 

It’s  _ much  _ better than Isabela’s version, too. But that’s just for them to know.


End file.
